


Why Dirk Strider Doesn't Drink

by t0talcha0s



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Humor, Implied/mild sexual content, M/M, One Night Stands, POV Dirk Strider, Post-Break Up, Second person POV, technically the aftermath of such shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With your gossipy family already alight with speculation over the breakup you don't want to talk about there's not much you could do to cause much more of a stir. So of course you had to do the one thing that would make <em> everyone </em> start breathing down your neck. </p>
<p>You swear this is all Rose's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Dirk Strider Doesn't Drink

You don't drink, at all, alcohol is not your thing. The stuff tastes repugnant and the affects are less then desirable. You're a Strider not a Lalonde dammit and your alcohol tolerance shows that. You can count the number of times you've consumed alcohol on two hands and your aversion to it coupled with your lack of body mass makes you more of a lightweight then you'd like to admit. Pain lights up your head when you blink your eyes open and you know you have a killer hangover. Fucking great, you regret ever picking up a glass of the swill. You only went to the bar because Rose thought it'd be good for you. Damn her, why do you ever listen to your sister? As you eye your surroundings you're struck with a sense of déjà vu. White walls, posters for shitty movies coating them, what looks like sheet music and shaving cream on the bedside table. Groucho Marx glasses sit next to your shades and it's a bit of a funny juxtaposition. The green comforter you're wrapped in seems rather nice though, down you think, you bury your nose in it and sigh. The dull twinge of pain in your lower back is telling but can hardly compare to the throbbing in your skull, if you get a migraine from the light combined with this hangover you just might die. 

"Good morning sleeping beauty." The voice next to you says, and it confirms all of your assumptions that you had a one night stand. This is why you don't leave your house to socialize. You grunt in reply, not willing to conjure up your sharp wit right now. You do however flick your eyes open, bright orange and no doubt filled with your grudge against the spiteful morning sun. He's cute, nice arms, you've always liked arms, messy and coarse black hair, glasses, vibrant blue eyes, and a smile to top it all off. He seems a bit too cheery to you but you suppose you hardly care when you're drunk. He looks familiar. "You're a total blanket hog Y'know." He's right, you've got the whole of his amazing comforter wrapped around yourself while he only has his top sheet draped over his legs, soft, worn, white t-shirt stretched across his shoulder. 

"My ass hurts." Is all you give him in reply, shifting upwards a little and stretching your long arms above your head, arching until your back clicks, a twinge of pain shooting through it in protest and you grimace. Your companion for the evening laughs, it's a nice laugh but you're too annoyed to appreciate it. 

"There's probably a good reason for that." 

"Yeah it better have been good." You say, sitting up fully, leaning foreword over your legs to stretch out your back more. 

"You seemed to enjoy it." 

"My head hurts." A chuckle from him.

"Tylenol is in the kitchen cabinet, drink lots of water." You know, you've dealt with hundreds of hangovers, not your own but you're still well versed in dealing with them. You grumble out a quiet,

"I know." And you're pretty sure it's apparent how much you despise mornings and you shrug the amazing green comforter off of yourself. You're clad only in your Legend of Zelda boxer-briefs, the Triforce emblazoned over your dick. Your memory flashes to how he had smiled brightly at them. Looking over at him again you realize he's not your usual brutish type of man but he's on the more facetious end of not bad. You grab your shades, feeling a pressure behind your eyes be relieved once you don them. You pull on your shirt, oversized v-neck, and don't bother hop-shimmying into your skinny jeans. Your feet move far more sluggishly then you'd like on the, somehow familiar, carpeted floor but you're able to keep your posture straight and not give away too much of the pain in your lower back. You rub your eyes and yawn as you plod into the kitchen, fawning over your unkempt hair when you see it in the reflection of a window. Your hands seem to know the layout of this house, reaching for the exact right cabinet on the first try for both the glass and the medication. You chock it up to knowing how a house should be laid out. You pour yourself a glass of water and knock back the pain reliever, eyes landing on a harlequin statue display case and raising your eyebrow. Now _that_ looks familiar. You stare at it, fingers tapping rhythmically on your glass, it rings like crystal, probably because it is. This house, his eyes, what was his name again? Revelation sits on the edge of your mind, refusing to dawn. 

"Dirk!?" A familiar, surprised voice says, and ah yes, suspicions confirmed as it all clicks into place. You exhale deeply and your head dips just a little. 

"Hey, Jane." You don't bother to turn to look at her setting your glass down on the counter. You can hear her sputtering for a second before she spits out,

"What are you doing here?" Well that is the question of the morning, the name 'John' pops into your head and you're glad to see you've remembered his name. He'd been familiar and alluring at the bar and you're pretty sure you would have taken him somewhere else if you'd had a clear head. You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose before you turn to her, really wishing you had your pants. You're pretty sure the underwear clears up any suspicion. Her faces looks slightly betrayed, bewildered, and mainly surprised.

"Oh Y'know just stopping in for a drink." You attempt to sound nonchalant and curse yourself over the irony of the statement and mentally make a note to poison Rose, this is all her fault. 

"Without a warning? Or pants?" You nod, shrugging and her eyebrow raises higher. You hear footsteps in the other room but you don't bother to look away from her, throughly befuddled, face. 

"Casual Friday." 

"It's Sunday." 

"You expect me to wear pants on this, the lord's day?" You say it incredulously, as if it could be a serious accusation, your dodgy answers are doing their jobs of getting her off track though. 

"Didn't you condemn religion in sixth grade." You raise your eyebrows for a moment, as if thinking, and lower them again, pointing a finger at her in a conceding movement. 

"You've got me there." Her face is still in her expression of utter shock and disbelief. You hear a hearty yawn behind you, and your anxiousness in this situation ratchets up a notch, fuck this situation. You can practically hear Rose's chuckle in your ears and it makes you want to flay her open and rip out those vocal chords yourself. You feel a light breeze as John walks past you, he had enough foresight to put on pajama pants. Grabbing himself a glass of water for himself he mumbles, 

"Oh hey Jane." Jane's jaw only drops further, you'd worry about it unhinging but you've seen her in more disbelief then this. 

"Dirk Strider," she's using her stern voice and it's a more considerable effort then you would like to admit not to flinch. 

"Don't pin this on me." 

"I cannot believe," she stretches out the 'believe' to make a statement. You mentally hope she won't say it. "You slept with my brother." You wince, internally of course, it's not early enough for you to be losing your cool. 

"There it is." You say, emphasizing her bluntness, of course she wouldn't know you and your sibling's language to dance around subjects. 

"Why's this a big deal?" John, having finished his glass of water and turned to glance between the two of you. Jane turns her gaze to him, he gulps. 

"Don't think I'm not mad at you mister." 

"Why?" He blurts out, obvious confusion on his face. 

"You slept with my best friend!" Her exasperation evident in her voice. 

"It was one time." 

"We were both pretty tipsy." You say to John. 

"Oh speak for yourself, you cannot hold your liqueur." 

"I thought you didn't drink Dirk." 

"I don't" 

"But you did." 

"Rose's fault." The throb of your headache only worsened by this conversation. 

"How?" 

"Does it matter?" 

"Aren't you in a relationship?" You actually do flinch, barely, then. John voices his own concern of the statement with an eloquent, 

"Woah what!" 

"No, Jane, I am not." You hope she can feel the glare even through your shades. 

"What happened to Ca-"

"Oh man Jane it is too early for this shit stop talking." You pinch the bridge of your nose again, you fear you'll bruise it one day due to all your neuroses. "We broke up, does it matter you never liked him anyway." 

"He was beyond rude." 

"Yeah and now he's beyond out of my life, let's seriously drop this topic." She doesn't say anything and neither does John so you allow your shoulders to slump again, all this drama has you anxious and annoyed. "Once I do my hair and get out of yours we can just put this all behind us and never mention it again." 

"Even though you saw my brother's dick?"

_"Especially_ that I saw your brother's dick, no one has to know." 

"That, uh, might be a problem." John pipes up and you can feel your headache worsen despite having taken medication, and you just know you're glaring, and you know they can feel it even through your shades.

"Why?" 

"I have eight pages worth of lengthy messages from Dave about how wrong it is to sleep with his family, I stopped reading after paragraph three but it's an impressive essay." 

"Did he say how he found out?"

"Roxy." You groan. 

"Fuck."

"Dirk you didn't!" Jane interjects. 

"I must've." 

"Can you keep your mouth shut about anything around her?" 

"Previous experience says no, i can only hope I didn't drunkenly release a bunch of sordid details." Jane cringes. 

"I hope it wasn't _that_ sordid." You attempt to hold back the cocky smirk you want to throw her way and try to disguise it by talking. 

"What did he say John?" he holds up a finger, pulling his phone out of his pants, fuck this would be less awkward if you were wearing pants. 

"'Seriously man what the fuck, you can't go around screwing my family, not to mention Dirk just got out of a relationship-"

"Can't people keep my nasty breakup on the down low." You grumble. 

"Should I keep going or?" You give a noise that isn't really an answer in reply. "The gist of it is that I shouldn't get it on with his family, and he really wants to know what you're like when you're drunk." 

"He's a lightweight." Jane, oh so helpfully, adds. 

"I noticed." 

"It's because I don't drink, this entire fucking thing is Rose's fault anyway." 

"You say that but I cannot see how." 

"It's complicated, Crocker." 

"I'm sure, and I'm still mad at you, but if this conversation is over can you _please_ put on pants, though the Zelda undies are quite cute." You flash her a glare, irritated and embarrassed, and turn on your heel. You walk out of the room with much more confidence then one should have in the situation. You do not want to go home, not with your family worrying about your breakup and now finding this one night stand concerning/hilarious you could always jump ship and stay with someone else but you're sure they would track you down, Rose thinks you're so predictable. You groan, maybe you could just move to fucking Alaska, you've done well in the cold and you could probably show some people true hunting is done with a sword, but you could not survive without the conveniences of city life. You could remind them all that you have embarrassing secrets on each and very one of them. You'll figure out a good plan soon enough, right now you just need to find your pants.

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my drafts from forever ago, a little sprucing up and it was done. Figure I wrote it more for the humor aspect then anything. It was fun tho. 
> 
> Hmu on tumblr at barefootcosplayer!


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